Glimpses and Misfits
by ownedbyacat
Summary: Prospects AU. Drabbles and shorts that don't fit into any of the current plotlines and may or may not grow into stories of their own. Featuring Ken/Shuu, Byakuya, Unohana, Kenpachi and the rest of the crowd at Kuchiki Industries.
1. Message

"I thought I had asked for all phones to be turned off," the CEO of Kuchiki Industries complained when frantic beeping interrupted his presentation of the company's financial results.

A chair crashed to the ground in answer, knocked over in Kensei Muguruma's heedless sprint from the boardroom. The door slammed, leaving Byakuya Kuchiki to frown in consternation.

Kensei, head of Kuchiki Industries Corporate Security, might display the occasional streak of temper, but he was not usually rude. Walking out on the man who employed him, in the middle of a board meeting at that, did not fit Kensei's profile. Not at all.

"We're taking a ten minute break," the CEO announced and left the room, not surprised when Zaraki Kenpachi fell into step beside him before he'd even reached the stairs. Kenpachi had a nose for trouble that beat even Kensei's. And he'd been quivering all morning.

"What do you think happened?"

Byakuya shrugged. "That was a pager," he said slowly, trying to unravel the mystery. "Kensei doesn't have a pager."

Sounds of desperate sobbing greeted the men as they exited the stairwell on the 13th floor. The reception area outside the corporate security office was deserted, but the door to the large open plan office stood ajar. Byakuya reached for the handle, only to have it yanked out of his grip from the inside, a quick sidestep saving him from being bowled over backwards by a frantic Don Frazer.

"What's happening, kid?"

Donald Frazer stopped in his tracks and his head tilted upwards, meeting Kenpachi Zaraki's questioning gaze. He turned back toward the centre of the room, where Kensei stood still as a statue watching a smartly dressed blonde sob into a crushed handkerchief, as if to remind himself of events and reasons before he considered the men who had accosted him. He bopped a short nod as if both Byakuya and Zaraki had passed some test before he spoke.

"Shūhei Hisagi has been kidnapped."


	2. Mission

**Mission**

Kensei was inclined to ignore the doorbell. He wasn't expecting anyone. Besides, he had already spoken to Lisa that morning and knew that Shūhei was alive. Lisa was good about passing on news promptly, but these small nuggets of reassurance couldn't fill the void in Kensei's heart.

Nothing could, least of all the knowledge that Shūhei taking that undercover assignment hadn't been a snap decision. Neither had it been Shūhei's decision alone. They'd talked about it, they'd planned and discussed and agreed. They both thought they knew what they were doing. But Kensei hadn't expected to miss Shūhei the way he did. Like an eye, or an arm, or a warm blanket at night.

Nor had he expected Shūhei to be away for both their birthdays and their first anniversary.

Kensei rose with a sigh when the doorbell continued to annoy him. He wanted peace and quiet and the opportunity to mope, and whoever was determined to bother him better had a damn good reason.

"Shūhei?" The figure on the doorstep was a dead ringer for his lover. And Kensei could do little more than stare at the face he'd only seen in photographs and his dreams for far too long. "Did you lose your keys?"

Shūhei shuffled his feet and didn't look up. "I didn't want to presume," he replied eventually. "It's been three months, Kensei. All sorts of stuff could have happened."

The exhaustion in Shūhei's voice stopped Kensei's anger before it had time to gather strength. It was so like Shūhei to doubt. He took in the tired droop to the younger man's shoulders, the dark shadows under the eucalyptus eyes and held out a hand. "Could have, but didn't," he said softly, guiding Shūhei inside and closing the door against the world outside. "I was sitting here celebrating our anniversary. I even got your favourite single malt."

"Islay?" Shūhei's tone was dry. "Mind if I have one?"


	3. Picnic

**Picnic**

"You know I hate it when you do that."

"Yes," Shūhei said tersely, for what felt like the fiftieth time that morning. His patience was taking a hit and he wondered once again why he had to come up with crazy ideas like this. He wasn't doing it to test Kensei's reaction, that much was certain. Actually, the first time he had heard that whiny tone in Kensei's voice – on the way to the airport for a surprise holiday – he had almost driven off the road he was trying so hard not to laugh.

He tugged the other man until he stood in front of the open car door. "Get in." He covered the top of the silver spikes with his hand, making sure Kensei ducked down far enough to clear the edge of the doorframe, then leaned in after him and buckled the seatbelt. "There you go. All set."

"I'll get seasick," Kensei whined as Shūhei slid into the driver's seat and started the car.

"London is miles from the sea," Shūhei grinned, pulling out of the drive and turning towards the A3. "And you've jumped out of perfectly good aircraft just for fun, so I'm sure you can cope with riding in your own car for an hour while wearing a blindfold."

He didn't add that Kensei would spend most of the afternoon deprived of his sight, performing a task he'd never learned and having to trust someone he'd never met. With only another surprise as incentive. Not that Shūhei would be faring any better, but he, at least, knew what was coming.

"At least, when I was jumping out of planes, they let me pack my own 'chute," Kensei grumbled, fists clenched until the knuckles shone white. "And I got to pick the day, and select the jump zone. Not to mention check the weather."

This was exactly why Shūhei was careful to eradicate all options from his plans, of course. Because just as Shūhei tended to overthink matters and take the blame for outcomes whether he could have affected them or not, Kensei had a tendency to control every facet of his environment. He took care of everyone. He planned, arranged and manipulated events until nothing happened unless he had decreed it so. And while Kensei loved to stop Shūhei's busy brain in its tracks, Shūhei took great pleasure in arranging surprises for his partner. The unlikelier the better.

"I really should have you committed," Kensei breathed once he'd torn off the blindfold and taken a look around.

Shūhei couldn't argue. The quarry looked as if the apocalypse had taken place here. Very recently. And nothing but a steep-sided crater of desolation had been left behind. Boulders lay strewn about, the sullen glint of dirty water hid shallow depressions and deep potholes alike. Streams of yellow and grey mud and swathes of gravel made the uneven ground treacherous to travel. And amid it all stood Kensei, his tight denim trousers, soft brown loafers and brown leather jacket utterly out of place.

"What am I doing in an abandoned quarry on a Saturday afternoon?"

"Getting ready for a picnic," Shūhei said, ignoring the anger simmering close to the surface of Kensei's voice. He shrugged into the cami jacket he'd brought and pulled soft leather gloves from one pocket, holding them casually in one hand.

"A what..?"

Shūhei could see that Kensei was ready to pop his top when the almost forgotten screech of metal tracks on rocks and the cough and burnt-oil stench of powerful diesel engines drowned out thoughts and raised ghosts in Shūhei's mind. He had known this one would be tricky for him, so he focussed on Kensei's wide eyes, on the mouth that opened and closed without emitting any sound... and on the surprise that waited in the woods beyond the quarry.

"Here's the thing," Shūhei said once the two Challenger tanks had stopped and his hearing was no longer overwhelmed with the jangle and clank of abused metal. "Heston Blumenthal is cooking dinner for us as we speak. It will be served in exactly three hours in a tiny hunting lodge in the woods over there." He indicated the far side of the extensive quarry. "We have to make sure we're at the table when dinner is ready... or we don't get to eat."

Kensei's eyes narrowed. "And I suppose we have to make it across the quarry, unarmed and unsuitably dressed, while being chased down by tanks?"

Shūhei's heart beat wildly at the suggestion. He hid it by concentrating on his best puppy dog eyes. "You really think I'm that obvious? Shame on you!" He stepped close to Kensei and leaned to speak directly into his lover's ear. "How about, you get to drive one of the tanks across the quarry? Blindfolded."

"You have _got_ to be joking!"

"Am not," Shūhei grinned widely now, excitement heating his blood. "I'll race you in the other one. Winner gets a special treat from the Maestro himself. Snail porridge, Kensei!"

Shūhei wanted to watch the golden eyes grow wide, wanted to see Kensei purse his lips while he thought before he set his jaw and accepted the challenge. But he didn't. He turned – back straight and head up – and walked across the field of gravel, dodging puddles and mud as he went, confidence in every stride as if he'd been born to drive tanks.

Kensei wouldn't be able to resist. Not the challenge and certainly not the offered treat. And this...this was going to be good.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Heston Blumenthal is a famous English chef, who maybe should have been a chemist given his analytical approach to cooking. His food is best described as 'unexpected' with creations like snail porridge and bacon & egg ice cream on the menu and liquid nitrogen as well as the more traditional fire involved in preparing the dishes. Of course, Kensei would adore having Heston Blumenthal cook for him.


	4. An Evening at the Office

**Author's Note**: So, this one's for **Cuzosu** - total crack, but who is checking, right? - who came up with some great suggestions when I felt that I needed to practise writing Byakuya in his guise as mining tycoon. It's pre-Renji, but features the usual suspects of the Prospects AU. It doesn't fit anywhere (yet), so it goes in the drabble pile. Maybe someday, it will grow up.

As usual, I just borrow Tite Kubo's characters to play.

Enjoy!

* * *

**An Evening at the Office**

Ten o'clock and another night when the CEO of Kuchiki Industries appeared to be the last man left in the large old building. Byakuya Kuchiki liked it that way. He relished the chance to wander the hallways and offices without the usual flurry of activity and speculation that dogged his steps wherever he went and the state of desks and common areas at the end of the day told him more about his company than accountant's reports and bank balances.

There were other perks to his lonely sojourns, too. New specimens on the prospecting office coffee tables or a haphazardly tacked up map on a wall could give him early warning of approaches by other mining companies. The employee notice board was a useful barometer of morale – even though he needed help interpreting its message more often than he cared to admit. Study of the notice board often led him to the tranquillity of Unohana's office and the ongoing mystery of why this quiet, supportive woman chose to surround herself with poisonous plants. And it wasn't unheard of for him to pull an orange off the tree beside Kensei's desk or pick a sprig of mint or rosemary on his way home to cook dinner.

Byakuya Kuchiki's evening forays through the building were a cherished routine. And that routine did not involve... giggles. Totally inane giggles. Coming from Kensei Muguruma's office.

"Now _she_ looks ace, don't'cha think?" Don Frazer queried in a heavy accent as the Kuchiki pushed open the door to Kensei's private office. The Scot was leaning across Kensei's desk and waved a magazine at... Shūhei Hisagi, who occupied Kensei's chair, feet propped up on a corner of the desk. Both looked dishevelled and suspiciously flushed.

"Not really Kensei's type, if ya' know what I mean?"

"He has a type?"

A frown crept across Byakuya's brow. Judging from the way they worked together, Byakuya had thought Kensei and Hisagi were a couple. Had he been wrong about that or had something happened? Would that explain...

"How about this one?" Frazer held out the magazine. "Exterminate!" he snarled in a decent approximation before another fit of giggles overtook him.

"Nah," Shūhei just shook his head. A cute little frown drew his brows together and crinkled the corners of his eyes. "It's Kensei. It's gotta be food porn."

The Kuchiki stepped closer to the desk, still unobserved. "I thought we had a policy about dirty magazines at work, gentlemen," he said icily.

"I dusted it carefully before I brought it in, sir." Frazer deadpanned, trying very hard not to dissolve into laughter. Again.

"True," the brunet beside him nodded assent. "Kensei requested a custom job, so we can't just get any old..."

Byakuya was close enough now to see that the magazine in question didn't show scantily clad women or other risqué material, but what the page _did_ show made little sense. A dalek, next to a fish tank with colourful tropical fish, next to a guitar decorated with truly garish Hawaiian print, next to a... roast chicken with a red rubber hat? "Are you drunk?"

"Just totally strung out," came Kensei's voice from the open doorway along with the mouthwatering aroma of freshly cooked curry. "These two nut jobs decided to marinade in coffee instead of going home last night. I suggest you discount anything either of them says. They're on a different planet."

The security chief set two large carrier bags on the low table by the window and dug in the cupboard next to it for plates, cutlery and a box of napkins. "Now get your asses up here and eat before I force-feed you."

The Kuchiki followed in the wake of Shūhei and Don weaving their way across the office, noting the dark circles around Shūhei's eyes, Frazer's drooping lashes and gazes that vacillated between alert and totally unfocussed as if someone was playing with a switch. Byakuya was no stranger to long hours, but he rarely worked more than twenty hours without at least a nap. Or food.

"Was there something you neglected to tell me?" Byakuya sat down and accepted a plate. He had never eaten dinner in the security chief's office, but he had the distinct impression that it wasn't a rare occurrence. He made a mental note to use the next operations review board to address working hours.

"We were rebuilding a server," Shūhei started, only to be cut off by a growling Kensei.

"You two have _nothing _else to say tonight. Shut up and eat so I can pack you off home."

"Ah, you're just pissed because you didn't know," Shūhei smiled angelically, unfazed by the snarl. But at least he sat down and started eating before Byakuya was forced to make an attempt to restrain the white-haired security chief.

"Kensei?" he queried to distract the man. "Is there something I need to know?"

"When Frazer starts to take meeting notes in binary, he's gone too long without sleep," Kensei replied after a deep, put-upon sigh. "Other than that... no. There's no emergency, just two idiots going to town on a routine job."

"But we got it done in record..."

Kensei glared. Frazer stopped speaking and concentrated on his food. And Byakuya had to admit that the curry was exceptional. As was the entertainment. Because once they had food in their stomachs, Frazer and Hisagi simply couldn't keep awake. The brunet, neat as always, just dropped his head to his chest and nodded off, empty plate still in his lap and fingers folded neatly around the handle of his fork. The Scot fought with his heavy lids, not least because he continued to riffle through the magazine that had occupied his mind all evening. But he, too, lost to Morpheus in the end and Kensei rescued his plate before it hit the floor.

"I'll take them home later. Just wanted to make sure they'd eaten." Kensei stacked plates, not hiding the affection in his voice. "They're bound to feel like shit tomorrow anyway. No need to make it worse."

"Enlighten me," Byakuya said when he had finished his portion and set the plate on the edge of the low table. "What's that custom job that had these two giggling like teenagers over a top shelf magazine?"

"Slip of the tongue on my part," Kensei admitted. "I asked them to spec me a new computer, similar to Shūhei's. I'd no idea why the two were howling with laughter until Frazer dug this out." He reached for the magazine and flipped it open. "Customised computer casings," he explained, turning the pages. "From stunning to cringeworthy and everything in between. One of Frazer's mates builds these... and once they got it into their heads that that's what I wanted, there was no stopping them."

Byakuya took the magazine from Kensei's hand and flipped through the pages, intrigued by the multitude of designs. Some, like toaster ovens or motorcycles were predictable. Others, like a miniature of Tower Bridge or a Victorian steam ship, were not. And the seascapes, complete with fish and flowing water, were simply unbelievable.

"These are fully functional computers?" he verified.

"Casings. You put inside whatever computer you want."

Byakuya Kuchiki flipped back to the page with the seascapes and aquaria. "It says here the designer takes commissions. Would he be able to create a hillside? With flowering trees and a waterfall?"

He ignored both Kensei's groan and Frazer's sleepy giggle.


End file.
